Diary of Arthur the Soldier

Au: Arthur, Francis, Matthew and Alfred are soldiers during Operation Neptune.
Rated T

June 7, 1944
Today I departed from London. I just finished my farewells to my family. My sister, Alice gave this journal to me. Honestly, she believes I should record my feelings while I am away to the French battlefront. Mam agreed, and gave me a pack of pencils. June 6 was D-Day. Or...that is what they are calling it anyways. I am joining in on the fight. Or higher ups are encouraging us to the our best... if it was not for the fact that I just got on board, I would have believed the idea of only a few were wounded. I am nervous. Hopefully, the beach is cleared.
I am trying not to lonely, so I made a friend. His name is Francis, last name, not disclosed. He is blonde, like me, but his hair is longer. He keeps it in a ponytail, tied by a red ribbon. He says his lover gave it to him. Obviously, his mother gave it to him, along with a small handkerchief he keeps in his pocket.
I keep the family picture in here; Mam and Alice in the middle, pap and I to the side. Pap died during the first war, shot by a German. I joined for him. Ma was sad about the idea, but she agreed that if I lived, Pap will be proud of me. General is calling us in for an announcement. I will write tomorrow.

June 8, 1944
We are quarter to the beach. I cannot see the coastline yet, but I heard the navigator say they we're close. Francis and I ate lunch today. Biscuits and cheese, with some gin. Francis is French, which was obvious by his accent, but he says he was born in Paris and moved to Liverpool when he was 20. He is 26, which is 3 years older than I am. I was told his birthday is in July 14, and he wishes he could make it by then. I told him of my life in London. My family works in a bakery, but I cannot cook for life. Ironic right?
It is fun to have Francis around. It would be pretty boring without him... I wonder if he feels the same. Oh look at me, prating like a school girl. Francis is a pervert though, so I hope he does not reach this. Seriously! When I was eating, he made a rude joke that almost left me chocking on my biscuit. Then he commented on my chocking as well!
Despite my bickering with him, I still cherish our friendship.
The boat is rather big, holding 30 soldiers at least. But it is really slow. We are told that we would be in Normandy in at least a week. I wonder if the food supply would last. I saw some American carry off two biscuits instead of one. Makes me think what if there was other like him. If there is, then we may have a shortage within three days.
June 8, 1944 Continued
I could not stop it. The American took three this time, and I confronted him. He gave me one to shut me up. I slapped it from his hand and put it in the bin. My heart literally stopped. Not only was he bigger than me, but oh goodness, who knew how Americans were raised. Fearful for my life, I ran to Francis in our bunkers and hid there. Well...I did not run... a tactical retreat. Who am I kidding, I was scared bollocks!
The bunkers are dusty, so every night at someone has a sneezing fit. Tonight it was me. Francis offered his bed to help with my congestion. But, he also wanted to sleep there. I almost refused, but then I heard someone tell me to quiet down, so I agreed. It was a tight fit, but we managed. I heard someone snicker, but it was really warm. Also, someone who was sleeping on the floor went to my bed and took the liberty to sleep there. At least I helped someone. Francis held onto me all night.
But, I couldn't sleep, so I am writing by candle. Now, I feel sleepy. Francis is still asleep, but his arm is waiting for me. Good night.

June 9, 1944
General told us some tips on how to survive. Head for the blocks. Stay in the shadows. Take as much ammo from the dead. Do not stop for anyone.
Francis taught me some French today. Hello, I am Arthur: Bonjour, je Suis Arthur
Help: Aider
I love you/too: Je taime / aussi
The frog would teach me the last one. Anyways, he taught me the vowels and such. It is a little confusing, but I think I got it.
The American confronted me today. The wanker had got me cornered too! Instead of beating me like I thought he would, he congratulated me. His name is Alfred and he says he is trying to control himself. He says he should have lunch together. I told him about Francis, and he said he would love to join us. I feel like this is going to end up badly.
General says he are heading to north of the beach now. The beach is cleared, but we need to help gain control of a small village up north. I do not remember the name... But it is French! I now that much...
I will write after dinner. Francis says hi...? Is that even applicable?
June 9 Later
I do not feel like putting the year anymore. Makes me think of when the war started and the fact that no one knows when it would end. Dinner ended. Only a biscuit and a piece of chocolate. Alfred found us and talked to us. He is pretty young to be in the army. He is 19 years old and came from New York. He came because he promised he was going to be a hero. I think he is naïve, but I rather not ruin his dreams. Alfred also noticed my journal, and starting talking about how he once had a diary in grade school. You are not a diary, so I set him straight. He told me, he thought I was not. Little brat. Anyways, found a new friend.
There was a strong breeze today, so we are told that we could be on shore within three days instead of a week if the weather kept this up. I am wondering if I actually want to go help the village out. I already made two new friends... I do not want to see their death if something happened.
Turned out Alfred were two bunks away from us. A Canadian is bunking with him. He seems shy and out of place... almost invisible. Matthew I think his name was. Alfred says they are brothers, but only bounded by years of friendship. I did not question his thinking, but I did question how they met. School they answered.
Once again, I could not sleep. I have too much in my head. I think I hear someone coming, so I will stop for tonight.

June 11
Sorry I did not write yesterday. I lost you, but found you late last night. I was too tired to write by then, so I will recap what has happened. I was wondering why Matthew and Alfred where in this boat, filled with British soldiers and not on another. It was a simple mistake. They were misguided and sent here. General said it was authorized for the two to remain on board.
Omaha beach was cleared, so Alfred did not have to go join them. One less soldier is not that important, right?
Wind still blowing strong. The hum of the engine and the flapping of the small makeshift sails are helping move our vessel along pretty well. I can see a small outline in the horizon. I think we are all going to fight tomorrow.
When I listened in the army, I felt so proud and proud of myself. Now, as I approach the shore with my friends... I feel scared; scared for myself and for others. I do not want to feel any pain. Wouldn't it be sad that my first friends I have made within 6 years are now on the verge of death and silence? I would cry if I could, but the sea salt itches my eyes and I am worried that if I cry I would be in more pain.
Francis taught me more French. I discussed Basic English principles to Alfred. He shrugged me off and chose to stick to his English mockery which is called "American Slang". Matthew and Francis are currently discussing some history, I think the French Revolution. Alfred is snickering as I write this. I swear you are not a diary.
So, Alfred also lost his father, but it was because of a car running him over. Sadly, he also stated how the accident happened right before him. I guess this where the "Hero" obsession comes from. I am no psychologist, but I guess because he did not help his father and become a hero, that is why his dad died. Matthew and Francis hugged the young American.
Now that I think about it, I do not know how old Matthew is. I guess is the same age as Alfred; younger or older, I cannot tell. He is mature at times, but a little childish as well. Then again, Francis is also childish.

June 11 Later
Alfred now takes 1 biscuit, plus a bite of my own. I think he is improving...?
We passed Omaha and Sword beach. Despite the fact that there was still a battle going on, we were needed elsewhere. There was a small German base up north, and helping with the fight over there.
We are landing within the hour on shore, but we will attack tomorrow. We will set up a base and prepare. I think around noon, we are set to attack.

June 11 Even more Later
Guess who I was bunked with? No, it is not Francis. God save the poor man that bunked with Francis.
I am sharing a tent with someone I have not really mentioned here. Howard his name is. He is a kind soul, but he is a little solitary. He is like a butler in my opinion, or a really nice cabby driver. Anyways, it was a rather peaceful settle in. We all got a piece of chocolate along with our usual meal. General says it is for us to get in high spirits.
I tried to make a relation with Howard, but he says he does not want to make any friends until after the war. Understandable. I should have thought of that before I met Francis and the others. The four of us decided to come together in my tent (Howard was out somewhere at the time) and we decided to exchange some stories. Francis told of his life in Paris before moving to Liverpool and his settling in there. It turns out; he was also a baker, but actually a good one unlike me. Though, I did not tell him this. Alfred is an average American teenager, enjoying the movies and dances held in the town square every weekend. He had just graduated from high school a few months ago, and when he heard of the war, he had wished to help out with the cause. Matthew told us of his pet polar bear he had at home. They kept it outside, but once in a while he would bring it inside his room and hug it. He comforted us by telling us that it was just a cub and domestic. Despite his words, I worried.
I told the others a tale of when I was younger how I had tried to grow out my hair. Something I might have forgotten to tell you... I have a rather distinctive feature. My eyebrows are dark black and thick, compared to my loose and blonde hair. Actually, when I say loose, I rather mean 'bedhead'.
Anyways, when I was younger, I was told that I was rather unattractive. Being a teen with no real self-esteem, I decided to grow out my hair. (It was the fashion of the time to have long hair kept in pony tail. It was a ridiculous fad now that I think back to it, but I was young and foolish) since I was doing this privately, no one knew what was happening during the winter break. When I returned, no one recognized me until they looked at my face (the eyebrows, I bet). My hair was a big mat of blonde tuff, untamed! I was called "The Yellow Caterpillar" and eventually I cut it all off, and stayed with my hair.
Needless to say, when I told the others of this event, they laughed, Francis more than the others.
I literally just sighed. Matthew helped me with my French... but since he has knowledge of Canadian-French, it is a little off. Luckily Francis was there to correct the both of us.
Anyways, I think I should head off to sleep. Tomorrow is... going to exciting.

June 20
I am trying to write legible.
I am so scared. Matthew was shot, but he is alive. Alfred took him back to camp. I am here all alone. I do not know where Francis is. Gunshots are everywhere. I hear screaming and-

June 25
[Illegible writing]
... Pretty sure the writing is going to stain. It has been raining for a while. I almost got shot, but luckily dodged. Killed someone; Hiding behind a shed right now. Some other soldier is with me. He is refilling our guns. I am helping with supplies and letter making. Have not heard of the others and I am starting to worry. It is dark outside, so I hope these lines are straight.
Another shot

June 29, 1944
Hello, this is Francis. So this is the famous diary Arthur has been writing in all this time. He is next to me, do not worry. But...he cannot come to you at the moment. You see... he saved me. Ok, we are in a small trench to the south of the fighting. It is almost over.
I have been in the thick of the fight over at the Sword beach territory. Arthur seemed to have been a little to the side, maybe 100 meters to the west. Well, we met again in a... sad situation.
Where do I start...? I bet Arthur has told you all about me and how he is so very attracted to me.
Wait, this is not the time; Later.
Those Germans... They have ruined my country! I broke from the group to look for some supplies from the dead. I heard some commotion up ahead, and snuck around it. Then, I see it; a German shooting a child. I launched out at the other in surprise, and when he turned to defend himself, I saw Arthur. He was behind a shed. On the floor was not a child as I thought, but another soldier (had a cute face, I guess).
I panicked and as I was pushed to the ground and the barrel of a gun was to me, I heard the German scream and a shot was fired.
Next thing I knew, both men were on the floor.

Anyways, I am getting myself sad. Despite rule number three, I carried Arthur to safety. I took the bullet out of him (First-Aid Kit) and he is sleeping next to him.
Yes, sleeping. I just checked.
June 30, 1944
I wish your British owner would wake up already. If he doesn't wake up... I will eat his hard biscuits! That sounds wrong even in writing.
Yes, this is still Francis. It is over. Mon Dieu, Operation Neptune is over! We are called back... Matthew is in the Medical bay at Camp, and Alfred is with him. But Arthur! He won't wake up! I guess I will have to carry him up... If he hits me, it is your fault.

Later
Man, Arthur snores very lightly. It is almost cute. Anyways, we are back at camp. He is at the tent. I am outside, thanking the gentlemen that helped carry the Brit back. Well, they were all British... Well, carried my Brit home anyways.
We are being sent back home for a while. Even though another operation is going on, Operation overlord I believe, we are not exactly needed. Some volunteers are heading over to other station to continue fighting. By Jeep, I heard. Very useful and better than walking; hurts my back though.

Oh, saw some French Rebels fighting with us. They seemed... determined. I am proud of my country.
Besides that, there is nothing to say that does not involve all the blood and death I saw around me. But, you are a diary, not a horror film. I do not want to fight anymore.

August 3
The French Man! Writing all over my journal! He called you a diary... Do not worry, I will fix him later.
I am glad he did not write in French... or I would have had to tear the pages. He even wrote behind another one of my entries, like if he was making me aware not to tear it...
My body is sore. I have not written in at least 10 days. I am sorry. I think Francis informed you of what has happened. It was an action of pure passion! Hatred and worry, mixed in with adrenaline! The Kraut shot me in the stomach. Luckily, it barely missed my liver, and only hit some muscle. I think I killed him though... Where I shot him, I do not know.
It seems like I have been unconscious for a long time. I thanked Francis for not giving me an infection (that would have killed me also). I found Matthew. He was shot in the leg, and had gotten an infection, but was given medicine. He came out before I did.
I lost the picture my family gave me... Actually, just found it. Covered in blood though.
I am in the vessel once more. I am off back to London. Alfred and Matthew gave us their address so we may write to them. Francis is coming with me. The frog wants to 'take care of me'. I am not sick! I was just shot, that is all... plus I cannot stand without pain. Ok, maybe I need him.
August 4
I am not sure what I should do with you. I want to keep you and lock you away in a cabinet for the world to never see. Part of me thinks I should publish this in the paper. Another suggesting me giving you to my family.
I think I will keep you. These are my personal thoughts. The last thing I want is someone reading them and mocking me later.
Francis says he wants to keep it. Damn it.
Later
I will give it to him after he takes care of me. He says he is moving to London to spread his goods around. Sounds rude if you ask me!
Alfred and Matthew say they are going to visit London often. I think I will visit America once in a while too.
Oh, if distance was not a problem, I would actually want us to stay together...

The idiots! They read this and suggested we all be flat mates. Alfred and Matthew will 'move' after summer ends. Francis just snickered. Somehow, I cannot refuse them.
I guess this is farewell. One day, I will probably get you back to show to my children.
I am not very good at farewells. Never was.